Intertwining
by Diary-chan
Summary: A drabble-turned-romantic one-shot for Luke and the player character from Animal Parade that somehow doubles as a generalized character study.


**A/N: Yeah… this kind of hit me right when I got Animal Parade, and then it just kind of traveled from there…**

_Disclaimer: Ah! If only I did own Harvest Moon! Alas, that right belongs to Marvelous Interactive._

_**Intertwining**_

Etta sat on the edge of the roof of the school, kicking her booted feet back and forth and enjoying the sea breeze that issued out over Harmonica Town. It was an early summer day, only the sixth, but scorching nonetheless. She stripped off the camisole over her T-shirt and sighed, wiping her dripping forehead with the fabric. Scorching couldn't even begin to describe it, actually. Finn was splayed out, belly-up, on the hot tiles next to her, fanning himself lazily with his oversized orange hat.

Her livestock were sweating their way in the pasture, newly-shaved sheep undoubtedly grateful for the loss of its wool, and her crops were probably wilting in the sun. She should go water them again; but it was so nice here, out by the town, all alone while others sat inside, fanning themselves in the air conditioning. She didn't have air conditioning on Woodwind Farm, much to Finn's loudly-expressed displeasure.

Etta was feeling a little depressed. The unruly brunette knew that she shouldn't be; only summer sixth, and she already had three bells. Working on her fourth. The Harvest Goddess was proud, happy that life was returning to Castanet. But the Goddess, like the rest of those inhabiting Harmonica Town and the surrounding areas, was more an acquaintance than a friend; grateful indeed, for her part in saving Castanet, but not friendly on a personal level. It was as if Etta was a dog who had found an item lost to its owner: "Oh, thank you, Etta!" A pat on the head. And then, they went back to their lives like nothing happened. Oh, they remembered, alright; every time Etta passed someone, they tipped a hat or waved cheerfully. "You're such a good doggie! What a smart, cute, wonderful puppy!" Like additional praise, given only out of habit and a sense of duty than true companionship or gratefulness.

These people – no. Etta wouldn't think like that. It was only personal bias and a tad of loneliness that made her even consider that they were shallow. No; they all had thoughts and hopes and dreams and flaws and virtues and kind hearts. They all had their own little worlds, worlds that they thought too humble or maybe too good to share with her, the outsider, the stranger; their own personal threads in the big tapestry of life. But the threads only touched hers ever so briefly, and in favor with continuing on with their individual paths, chose not to intertwine with those they didn't find a catch in the thread; a spark that drew them like flies to honey.

Etta was nothing special. Normal to the point of boring. There wasn't really any point in stopping to intertwine a thread with hers; other than briefly to acknowledge how such an average girl could do so much for Castanet. No, the people didn't stop and talk to her out of hospitality and generosity. They kept to themselves, and waved only because they felt they _owed_ her something and didn't know how to give it, unless she took it. But taking wasn't what Etta was used to. She had always been the giver. She didn't know how to take what she deserved without it being offered; a simply innocent gullibility that sabotaged her dearly. And since the townsfolk didn't know how to give things other than material needs – tangible things that people want, not what they need emotionally – Etta was at a loss as to how to fill the empty space in her heart.

Or maybe, she was just feeling down because summer sixth was her birthday and no one was bothering to remember. Just an unimportant detail that was forgivable to forget, that so many people would apologize for, and it would make Etta sick because they wouldn't even know what they were saying 'sorry' for; they were used to apologizing, didn't realize that it was more than the lack of presents or attention that bothered her.

Etta – she was so lonely. The definition of lonely. Just a shy, hard-working, prioritizing brunette, who had made the mistake of pushing everyone away in the beginning, just a season ago, too absorbed in trying to save them all to give them what they found more valuable: time and attention. With the villagers, it was so easy to reach out to each other, to take the hand offered. They were so isolated and gentle and such a sleepy little people, that had never experienced the hurt or the doubt or the uncertainty that came from living in a modernized world. They couldn't understand true happiness, true love, because they had never really experienced and understood true pain or sadness. They didn't know the difference, but simply lived in shades of muted gray, like there was no color to their lives.

Sometimes Etta felt like she was supposed to be saving a bunch of robots. Lifeless mannequins with names and pasts and feelings, but no idea what to do with them.

There was only one thing that kept her from giving up in this lifeless, utopist, utterly uninteresting world.

A smile crept upon Etta's lips, one that she couldn't stop from spreading until she was grinning from ear to ear as a blue-haired boy hurried, energetic and yelling, down the path from the east that lead to Woodwind Farm.

"ETTA! ETTA!"

The farmer in question giggled and clambered back over the roof to the balcony on top of the school, motioning silently for Finn to follow. (He did, with much moaning and groaning.)

Luke met her there, a hastily-wrapped packaged, looking much worse for wear and covered in misplaced glue and ribbons, in his frantically waving hand. His eyes were alight, a pearly grin plastered onto his face. Here was a man – wait. Did he really qualify as a man? He was too energetic and childish. Anyways, the _guy_ was a, erm, person of all extremes. For some reason the blue-haired lumberjack seemed to feel things differently from the rest of Castanet – like a magnifier, 200%. When he was happy, he was overjoyed. When he was mad, he was furious. When he was sad, he was devastated. When he was excited – well, he was really hyperactive. When was Luke _not_ excited?

The boy's unending cheerfulness, compared to the drab, neutral acceptance of the rest of the island, was a welcome change of scenery that never failed to amaze, cheer, enlighten, and inspire Etta, all at the same time. No one else could do that. The farmer had no idea whether he had undergone something to make happiness meaningful in his past, or if he was just naturally more emotional than his counterparts, but he was different and he was like her and that was what mattered.

Luke, grinning stupidly, presented her with the package. Blinking, Etta stared at it for a moment with his expectant gaze on her before she looked up at him apologetically.

"Oh, Luke, I'm sorry… I should've brought some mayonnaise. I didn't really expect you, see. I thought you were working today."

Luke look puzzled.

"But, Etta…" he said slowly, as if double-checking himself, "it's your _birthday_. You shouldn't be giving _me_ presents on _your_ birthday!"

Etta laughed a bit, her spirits high again. "Oh. Yeah."

A long pause ensued. Just when the awkwardness began to set in, Finn – whom Etta had momentarily forgotten existed – whispered in her ear, "Well, open it, then!"

"O-oh," Etta stuttered with a little blush. "Um. Yeah."

Her fingers sought the nearest corner and she began to tear, until what once a hastily-wrapped package was turned into navy suede box. Curious, Etta flipped it open, and gasped as she saw a glittering light green gem set into a necklace.

"Oh, Luke," Etta said, mesmerized by her favorite color, "you shouldn't have."

Luke, sheepish, scratched the back of his head and laughed nervously. "Well… um… I know it's your birthstone… and… green really, uhm, brings out your eyes…"

Etta looked up, shocked.

"Julius helped me with that part."

Etta sighed in relief. That was more like the Luke she knew.

"Where did you get it?"

"Oh," Luke said. "Well, Owen found a Green Wonderful in the mine and got it refined into a peridot by Mira, right? But Kathy's not really into that stuff, and it clashes with her eyes… or so Julius said," he added when Etta stared at him again, "so he was gonna sell it, but we're good friends, see, so he gave it to me and I had it made into an accessory. It was a little more expensive 'cause I had to pay extra for the silver to make the chain out of-"

"How much did it _cost_?" Etta questioned with wide brown eyes.

"Erm…" Luke fidgeted uncomfortably.

"It must have cost a fortune!"

"Mira gave me a discount…"

"Luke! You really shouldn't have." But Etta's eyes told a different story.

Luke just smiled and brushed it off and stood, glancing awkwardly off into the distance.

"I'll always wear it," Etta promised. She took the necklace out of its box, then fumbled around the back of her neck with her calloused fingers. She struggled for a while, but then Luke leaned in and reached around her neck helpfully.

"Thanks," Etta said as she heard the click behind her neck, breathing in the musky, pine scent of the woodsman who was so close to her, eye level with his shoulder.

"Welcome," Luke muttered. His fingers lingered on the clasp, but he leaned back from her a little to get some breathing room, tilting his head downwards toward Etta. She was frozen for a moment, holding her breath, caught in the twin pools of liquid amber that were his eyes, and then she couldn't see them anymore because her eyes were closed and her lips were locked against his.

They shared a short, sweet, rather innocent kiss, and then Etta pulled back, startled, and Luke ripped his hands from her neck like he was being burned.

Etta stood, blinking, for several moments, and then began to dash back to her farm at a breakneck pace, camisole forgotten on the ground and face burning crimson.

"Wait! Etta!"

But Etta kept running until she was back at Woodwind Farm, and then she began to water her crops again as Finn ranted at her for going too fast. The pendant burned cold against her neck, a sharp contrast to the blush that heated her cheeks.

Strangely, though, Etta smiled to herself. All of Castanet suddenly seemed brighter, more vibrant, and Etta wondered how she ever could've found it so dull and lifeless. The next time she passed someone on the street, she didn't see just another body with no purpose or feeling. She realized how wrong she was. These people – every minute, their threads intertwined with each other, with everyone's. It was not the villagers who had been rejecting the twining of threads; it was Etta herself, with her assumptions. No longer did the brunette's face burn with embarrassment, but shame at having judged them, blamed them, for the isolation of their paths, when really the paths were circling and knotting and bumping into another all along and she had simply ignored it and been on her way. There were so many threads wound with her own, that had become a part of her path so much that she didn't notice the twist of a line that separated them anymore. Etta realized that she had been part of a family all along, simply isolating herself so much that she couldn't see the thread of her life and all the others intertwining together into, not a tapestry, but a rope; strong and tight and loyal, with some threads running closer than others – but that being okay, because they were all part of a common goal in the end.

And it looked like Luke and Etta would be intertwining very tightly, for a very long while.


End file.
